Life Musings

Hi, all! I’m back. I haven’t gone that far but it certainly seems like a long time has passed since I’ve last graced these pages with my rants and random posts and other bullshit commentary on life. Also for those unaware, “that far” just means…

For me, the hardest part about pregnancy, besides the fact that I was literally growing a human and that takes one hell of a toll on your body and your psyche, was navigating the folks who just can’t wait to tell you what to do, or what not to do, or what you should absolutely never do, or what you should be doing absolutely every day.

It doesn’t have to be perfect to go out into the universe. It just has to be enough.

I try really hard sometimes,

To say the things I want to say,

To forge them forever in ink.

It’s never easy.

2020 was annoying and fucked up and scary for a lot of people. For me, it was just filled to the brim with crazy highs and super low lows. 

Spotify playlists are literally an auditory compilation of everything that your body enjoys hearing for one reason or another. Want to get to know what makes someone tick? Listen to their Spotify playlist, ideally before the first date.

I love a good quintessential suburban Starbucks run. What you might not realize though, is that your favorite beverages are often just shy of a million calories.

As a Millennial with internet access and literally no need to ever leave the house again thanks to the work from home life, I decided to embark on a journey into the unknown, into the world… of natural deodorant.

This is my story.

This is something of a book report; I apologize in advance. Siddhartha is a book about finding yourself. About finding your true self. But also it’s about realizing that you can be more than one person in a lifetime.

Clarity is a beautiful thing… in life, in business, everywhere.

Lightbulb moments that run the gamut from work to life to music (with only a small amount of complaining).

I know why people like consulting - it’s like a high of another level. Which honestly thinking about it now it makes sense why it’s filled with a bunch of bros and over-opinionated people and loud people with no filters and oversharers and perfectionists…

Would you want to know if I wrote about you? Would you want to know I had a thought about you that was so strong that I literally wrote about it… days or hours or weeks or months or years later?

Because of my #poem follow setting on Instagram, I see lots of mushy posts and things that make you think and sometimes, and most notably in this case, about a million male “poets” writing about women.

Suddenly you feel silky soft latex rub along your skin. This feels weird… but in a bad way?… Then warm drips of wax that honestly feels great

Your eyes are closed and your fingertips are just barely touching your cheeks. You are completely encased in a glorious stream of perfectly warm water.

Rescue your hair that’s now trapped by said chunky sweater and gently squeezing cold wet water on your skin. Give your hair a tussle and stare back in your gilded mirror…

My time in wine sales has taught me a lot of things. It taught me what I was willing to do to make a sale and most importantly, what I was not willing to do just to meet my monthly sales goals.

Sorry I’ve been slacking. I haven’t written a new post in weeks at this point. Life got a little out of hand, as per usual. Let’s give a quick recap of the last few weeks…

Life goes a little something like this: Wake up (ish) for plus or minus seven minutes to an alarm that is so quiet it’s astounding it’s actually doing a good job of waking you up except for the fact that those tones are just so damn annoying at that hour that you’re really not surprised in the slightest that it does the trick.

Profile bios are the worst to create. In no way can 150 words define a person. Especially when that person barely knows what they want to be when they grow up even though they might happen to be a grown ass adult already who’s just confused and at a crossroads in their life and looking to pursue a new career path but aren’t 100 percent sure what that’s going to look like yet.

Do you even know how many tip posts about blogging are out there with titles like “how to crank out tons of bullshit posts to get followers in less time!” It’s like a bad used car salesman situation out there.

The new Borat movie, Borat Subsequent Moviefilm - I cringed, my jaw dropped, and I laughed my ass off… but most of all, Borat exposed the worst of us.

I firmly believe that nice guys don’t always finish last and the loudest one in the room does not always win the conversation. However, sometimes even nice guys needs to raise their voice, put douchebags in their place, and make a stand.

I LOVE when people tell me I can’t do something, when people are convinced I am less than, and when people have no qualms about saying shit like that out loud to my face. I love it, because I love proving people wrong.

I regret everything I thought about doing but was too chicken to do. Everything. All because I doubted myself in that moment for whatever reason and had that little voice in the back of my head that said “you can’t do this” or “you shouldn’t do that” or “you don’t deserve this” while trying to work out the pros and cons. You know what I think? Fuck that voice.

There are so many things that I take for granted as given. Having a warm bed to sleep in at night, seeing the future as full of possibilities for my career prospects, knowing that if I wanted to I could live almost anywhere and find a way to make it, but also knowing that if I happened to fail I always have family that would help me to pick up the pieces.

They involve telling the truth, or at least my version of it, and being totally and completely and brutally honest with a bunch of people that I wouldn’t normally bare my soul to on a regular day. Sometimes they involve fantasies - what you wish the world could be, your life could be like, or what the next 24 hours could hold if Covid wasn’t a thing anymore…

Who knew that a rock carving started almost a century ago would give me all the feels about this country, where it is today, and what it means to be American in the Trump-era.

There I was at the far end of the kitchen, foot just barely touching the kick pad of the flip-top garbage can. My friend was standing a mere five feet away, ready to pass me a cork that would ultimately (hopefully on this attempt) end up in the garbage.